


Oil & Menthols

by OhSweetCas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Destiel Smut Brigade, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Gay Sex, Human Castiel, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Mechanic Dean, POV Alternating, Pre-Canon, Work Contains Fan(s) or Fandom(s), au!, versatile Dean/Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-03-23 14:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3772048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhSweetCas/pseuds/OhSweetCas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak, the man with broken dreams and faithful heart, finds in a small town at the shore his opportunity to start over.<br/>Dean Winchester, the man with faithful dreams and broken heart, finds in his birthplace what he couldn't find elsewhere.<br/>One day, the shy clerk meets the funny and attractive mechanic who works at a garage in front of his workplace, a gas n' sip.<br/>Their two different personalities might be what the other needs to heal the wounds they have made, and what family can't replace, maybe love will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> The other day I had this idea of a one-shot with mechanic!Dean and clerk!Cas, so I started writing it but somehow it got huge *nervously laughs* so I thought: Hey, maybe I could turn this into an actual story. But I don't know if it is THAT good.  
> So, I'll post what is supposed to be the first chapter here and maybe you could tell me what you think of it, yes?  
> It doesn't really has Destiel in here, just the introduction of the characters and of their lives, but I really hope to make it soon - if this story goes on.  
> Ok, enough blabbing. Here, take it, and I hope you like it! :)

[Dean]

 

Some people define happiness in materialistic affairs such as money, fame, a grand three-stored house with a pool and barbecue, a fancy and extremely expensive car and an elegant and opulent young lover. In other words, and in a very ironic manner, based on illusions of a poisonous life teemed with greed, avarice and envy towards others. Whatever the case may be, none of those things truly matter to our survival, however, the world keeps running after them like a petty preposterous mouse in a deadly maze.

Dean Winchester never was an example of that. Of course, he was no saint, he, once in a while, would lust over something or someone, yet he never had selfish unrealistic life goals. He knows what real happiness is or, leastwise, he tries to reach it in the small joys of living. It is not of his interest to have a mansion with long green yards with a gigantic new pool, a Jacuzzi, or a vast company who employs thousands of people who make him wealthier one week after another; quite the contrary! His life couldn't be simpler: a modest apartment, with cracked walls, a barely existing kitchen and a cold shower, downtown and a humble family business alongside his uncle Bobby, while his brother studies Law at Stanford. Apart from that, at weekends, he hangs out with his best friend, Charlie, and, during the week, he is a mechanic; simple enough to be gleeful without many concerns.

 

 

-

 

 

The sun isn't even showing the first signs of coming and the entire block where he lives is still involved in the silence of the dawn of the day, when 'Carry On My Wayward Son' welcomes Dean to a new day of work. Instead of turn it off or mute it, he leaves it there playing, and as the first instrumental hits, Dean, with a sloppy move, gets out of bed and plays air guitar, jamming his favorite song all the way to the kitchen to prepare his morning coffee. While he waits for it to get ready he lazily cleans the rest of the kitchen, he was too tired the night before to do so, and puts the dishes into the dishwasher. A pack of letters is waiting for him to open them, but the sleepiness and the indisposition to deal with more bills makes him do the decision of ignoring them, so he simply pours some coffee into a mug and walks back to the living room leaning on the brown windowsill, absently scratching his left calve with his foot, enjoying the scenery of the desert beach at the very end of the panorama of his window.

He always loved that beach. Mostly because he spent all his summers since he could remember of existing lying on that warm and golden sand, looking up at the sky at the seagulls or making sand castles with his younger brother Sam, while his parents would sit beside them simply watching over them or laughing at something the other would say. When they were distracted, or for some other reason not with them, Dean would prank Sam by throwing sand at him or convincing him to eat it instead, and then John would admonish his older son for that but the sweet smile on his face always betrayed him and, the day after, Dean would keep doing the same. Howsoever, the best part would always be at the sunset time, when most of the beach was already empty and a soft breeze would sing along the waves crashing on the rocks and the seagulls crying in the sky. Sometimes, Mary would even take photos with the boys in the water or with John and after, when it was too cold for the kids to be there, they'd dinner at a small diner at the entrance of the beach.

For as much as he'd like to stare at his childhood place for the rest of the day, the sun's rising was his signal to get dressed and go to work before he gets late. So, after taking one long last sip of his black coffee he hotfoots to his messy room and picks up a clean black t-shirt and some old jeans, hindering up the simple action of dressing a pair of jeans when trying to walk with half of his jeans already dressed and the other foot looking for its hole. Despite that, he made haste, and after brushing his teeth and combing his hair, he finally grabbed the house keys and left for a fifteen-minute walk to Singer's shop.

 

 

[Castiel]

 

 

Not always plans go as thought, and Castiel knew that better than anyone else. You grow up surrounded by people saying for you to go after your dreams, you can be whoever you want, with enough work and patient the reward will come and take you to the top of the world, and then, life laughs at your sweaty face and exhausted body and yells "Face the truth" at you.

That's what happened to him. All his life was about studying hard and obsessively, preparing himself to do justice to the Novak legacy and become a respectful doctor, and in return he was flung into the cold real world: a planet full of cruel people and shattered dreams. The man who would be king lost the comfort of his home and the chance of following his dream because the same family who raised him left him due to retrograde mentalities and closed minds. Although, he doesn't care anymore. He learnt the lesson that sometimes you don't get to live the life you pictured, yet the alternative can be better, even if you don't see it; he doesn't. Not yet, because to him how can a life as a clerk at a gas n' sip store, completely alone in a new town without any kind of connections be better than a life as a reputable doctor in a big hospital and with a comfortable house at the outskirts?

 

 

-

 

 

Castiel always starts his day with a long walk in the only place he found some serenity and peace since he moved to that town: the beach. The beach with long sandy plains and beautiful dunes and clean blue water placed in a small bay at the southwest of town. In fact, he spends most of his free time there, sitting on the brick wall separating the beach from the busy street, with his sketchbook in one hand, a pencil in another, and the landscape as his model. Unlike one may think, Castiel isn't an artist at drawing, he wouldn't even consider himself good, he just likes to draw and improve his skills, because besides that, it also calms him and he could use some of that calmness during his daily routine.

Today he decided to walk at the waterline and feel the foam on his feet, shivering at the cold temperature of the water. He kicks the water occasionally as he traipses with his hands sunk deep into his knee-breeches' pockets and a distant gaze at the sea, noticing the fishing boats already leaving the coast to another day of labor with its seamen already chanting orders between each other. Back at his hometown there weren't seamen. Neither there was a beach. He grew up in a rumbustious and bustling metropolis with skyscrapers and ads panels in every corner of the street, the traffic noise to the level of making someone going mad. If you asked him he'd say that the silence is what he likes the most here, alongside the tranquility of living in a quiet town on the shore.

The barking of a dog makes him flinch and he turns around to see a golden retriever running in his direction with his tongue swaying at his pace, and in an instant the dog throws himself at him, almost throwing Cas to the water, wagging its tail.

He hears, "Bad Loki, c'mere!" and looks to see a man running at them with a red sucker in his right hand. "I'm sorry; my dog loves people too much. He just wants to play." He apologizes gripping the lost leash from the sand and putting the sucker back to his mouth.

"It's okay." Castiel simply replies with a shy smile and pats the dog, rubbing Loki's head.

Loki's owner smiles back, "I'm Gabriel." He introduces himself raising a hand and Cas stops rubbing Loki to shake it,

"Castiel."

All the sudden Loki bites Cas's beach slippers he was holding in his hand and tries to run away with them dragging Gabriel with him.

"I swear to God, this dog..." The stranger grumbles trying to hold his dog and that makes Cas chuckle going after them. Gabriel sinks his feet in the sand and forces Loki to stop. "Here." He grabs Cas's slippers giving them back to its owner. "My dog is a complete trickster." He jokes with a blundering smile still with the sucker in his mouth. "Anyway, I got to go, but it was nice to meet you, Castiel, and I'm sorry for the slippers."

Cas nods smiling and Gabriel starts walking away pulling the dog with him and waves one last time at Cas before turning around and continuing his walk with his dog along the beach. He looks down at his hand, seeing two distinctive marks in one of his slippers and shrugs wandering to the sidewalk to walk back home before going to his work at a Gas n' Sip downtown.

 

 

[Dean]

 

 

The music coming from the radio is, in most days, the only company Dean has during his shift. Part of that is because besides him there's only Bobby there, but mostly because he is a music lover. Whenever a classic rock song starts playing, the shop turns into his stage and he sings its lyrics like there is no tomorrow, not caring with Bobby's complaints or with his out-tuned voice.

_"Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto, domo, domo_

_Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto, domo, domo"_

"...Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto..." Someone sings behind him and he lets the spanner fall, almost hitting him on his foot.

"You scared me." Dean chuckles cleaning his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a trail of oil instead, smiling at the redhead in front of him.

"You still have-" Charlie motions to his forehead, grabbing a rag and cleaning the oil out of his face, "And you ask why you don't have a girlfriend, look at you, all greasy." She mocks combing his hair.

Dean laughs taking the rag to clean his hands, "I wasn't expecting to see you here, today."

"What, you can't visit your friends, now?" She pretends to be offended, playfully punching his bicep, and sits on an old metal bench. He rubs his arm and returns to the opened capot humming the song that is still playing. "Hey-" She calls examining his work, "do you remember Cassie from high school?"

Dean looks up with a thoughtful expression, "Hm-the black chick, right?"

"That one! I found her yesterday and we started talking and she asked me your number..." She vaguely says squinting her eyes looking for some sign of interest on Dean's face. For months, she was trying to find someone to Dean, but he was always rejecting all her attempts.

"Not interested." He says not even taking a second to think about it while checking the car's engine.

A frustrated sigh comes out of her mouth, "What about Lisa? She's nice... Or Anna, she's trying to take a bite from you since she first landed her eyes on you." She blabs whining.

"Charlie, I already told I'm not into relationships right now, too much drama."

"But you're young... and with good looks, I mean, if I was into boys I'd be crazy about you!" Dean ignores her going to the toolbox to grab a bigger spanner. "I know that your relationship with Bella didn't work out, neither did the one with Michael, but-"

"Charlie-" He interrupts her crossing his arms. "I know what you're doing. Dorothy left and you're using my sexual life as your hobby so you won't think of her."

That makes Charlie look away crossing her arms in a defeated way. Since Dorothy moved to DC Charlie is trying to pair Dean with someone, even after all the times he told her not to do that. Especially because he doesn't want a serious commitment, but also because, after Michael he needs to clear his head.

"What about him?" She abruptly says pointing at the other side of the street to a man cleaning the storefront of a Gas n' Sip. "He looks cute." Dean doesn't even take the effort to look at where she was pointing, simply giving her a stare before leaning on the open capot once more. "You're boring." She finally gives in resting her head against a pillar.

 

 

[Castiel]

 

 

There isn't much to do was a clerk, so Castiel ends up, most of the time, living the boredom of his life or cleaning the store to, at least, have something to do.

"Don't forget to throw the empty boxes in the dumpster outside." The owner of the store, Mr. Devereaux, chants cleaning his round glasses as he walks to the exit, tripping over his own foot and hitting a stand, "God damn it! And pick up these cans, Steve."

"It's Ca-" Before he could finish, the store's door shuts leaving him talking alone. "-stiel."

He looks at the cans rolling on the floor and grumbles under his breath the luck he has to have Frank for his boss. With a sigh, he decides he can clean the shop window later and drags himself to clean the other's mess.

Nothing much happens after that, and Meg, his co-worker, arrives some minutes earlier to her night shift, saying he was good to go. As he walks out of the store, he sees a red-haired girl laughing while another person is pulling the shop's gate down and then, them both start walking down the sidewalk enthusiastically talking and laughing. He thought of them as a cute couple and dresses his trench coat, walking in the other direction back to his apartment, five streets up.

As usual, the elevator is out of service and Castiel has no other option but do the stairs to the fourth floor. His neighbor next door, an old lady who keeps calling him Charles, waves at him and he smiles back politely, grabbing his house key longing to be finally at home so he can change to his pajama.

"Yo, Cassie!" A familiar voice calls his attention and he turns his head to find Gabriel with a groceries bag between his arms against his chest.

"...Gabriel? I didn't know you live here." Castiel comments unlocking his door, slightly opening it.

His neighbor nods, "One floor above." Loki is sniffing the floor and Castiel frowns,

"I thought they didn't allow animals here."

Gabriel laughs, "Well, the landlord doesn't need to know, does he?" Castiel shrugs leaning on the doorframe. "Hey, I'm gonna have some friends over, tonight, do you-" He stops adjusting the bag in his arms "-do you mind keeping my dog just for a couple of hours? It's just that one of them is afraid of them, so..."

"Oh, okay." Castiel agrees half disappointed. For a moment he thought Gabriel was going to invite him too, but of course he wasn't, they barely know each other, he thought to himself.

"Great! I'll just feed him and after dinner I'll bring him down. Thanks, buddy, you're awesome."

Castiel simply smiles and excuses himself inside, shutting the door behind him and kicks his shoes off and hangs his trench coat on the coat hanger on the front door, going to his kitchen to eat something before starting his 'Dog's keeper' mission.

 

 

[Dean]

 

 

Dean had some rest from Charlie for the rest of the week. She would either point at girls or boys, from time to time, when she was making him some company at the shop, but they would mostly talk about what they'd do for the weekend. One wanted to stay at home and do a movie marathon, the other preferred to go to the cinema instead. Then one would choose to go to a small bar, and the other would rather go to a nightclub. Dean got the upper hand and it was decided they'd go to a small bar Dean knew since high school.

Dean is sitting on a stool beside Charlie, each one of them with a beer in hand,

"That one." She points at a blonde girl at the other part of the establishment.

Dean rolls his eyes, holding a grunt, "For the hundredth time, Char-"

"I mean for me, dumbass." She interrupts him, she too rolling her eyes, "I already gave up on you, monk. If you wanna live in celibacy, that's up to you. Me, in other hand, I need to have some fun."

Dean looks at the girl she was pointing at and examines her for a few seconds, "Drop it." Charlie, who is about to get up, frowns and gives him a confused look. "She's on a date."

"What?" She looks back at her, seeing her alone. "How can you tell?"

He sighs, taking a sip of his half-empty beer, "The dress, the high wheels, the excessive make-up..." He starts enumerating.

"That doesn't mean she-"

"...The way she keeps checking on her hair and keeps looking around and at her watch like she's afraid it gains wings and flies away..." Dean continues with a knowing tone and as he's finishing his list, a tall guy approaches the said girl kissing her on her cheek and taking the seat in front of hers. "I Told _ya_."

With a sad sigh, Charlie sits back down palming her chin, looking at her beer, "We are two forever alone, brother. I better start looking for homeless cats and take them home with me."

"You already are crazy enough, I can't even imagine if you had cats." Dean looks at her and she starts laughing, making him laugh too.

Still looking for a new entertainment, Charlie sees a friend of theirs accompanied with someone she doesn't know and pats Dean's shoulder getting up to greet them. Dean follows her with his gaze until he sees Gabriel and another guy awkwardly standing there. It somehow gets his attention, especially the way he is looking around like a confused and lost puppy until someone poking on his shoulder makes him turn his head to that person instead.

An elegant girl with long curly brown hair is smiling at him, "Hmm, I'm sorry, it's just-" She starts with an insecure but still feminine voice.

"I'm waiting for my boyfriend." He simply says the most credibly possible and makes an apologetic smile looking again at where the three were not finding them there anymore. Then it hits him that he said boyfriend but he just shrugs that thought away. After all, his last relationship was with another guy so it is normal that he has the urge to say boyfriend instead of girlfriend, right?

 

 

[Castiel]

 

 

Gabriel's invitation to go out to a bar to have a couple of drinks was a surprise to him. When he saw him standing on his door he even thought he was there to ask him to take care of his dog again like he did at the beginning of that week, but he was there to pay him that favor and to know him better because, according to his words, Cas seems to be a really nice dude.

So, he said yes and is now sitting at a table with two people he basically knows nothing about. Well, he knows Gabriel a little more than he knows the girl, whose name was the only thing he got so far, Charlie. She also appeared to be the same girl he saw the other day when he was heading back home after work.

"That Dean, I swear to God..." She, all the sudden, grumbles looking at the counter.

Castiel tilts his head confused and Gabriel follows her gaze seeing a girl giving Dean a weird look and walking away, "You know his thing with my brother Michael got pretty rough. I understand if he's standing behind, I'd possibly do the same."

"I know, I know, but he could get some fun either way." That's all she says before looking at Cas who is looking between them two completely without a clue of what they were talking about. "You're that cute guy, from the gas n' sip in front of Singer's, aren't you?"

Not knowing very well how to react to someone who just called him cute, Castiel simply shrugs with a faint nod, "I guess that would be me."

"So, do you have a girlfriend?" She asks curiously.

"...Not really."

"Boyfriend?"

He looks at her widening, "What?" Her only response is a shrug and Gabriel chuckles, drinking some of his beer, "No, I do not have a boyfriend."

She hums something to herself and that makes Cas squint his eyes, unsure of what that questions meant. A waitress comes by asking if they want a refill and Gabriel smiles asking for another beer, which she replies an "Okie dokie, bro" and goes back to the counter, returning a half minute later with Gabriel's request. They do some small talk and Castiel is simply watching as Charlie gets up and goes talk to some other girl at another booth. It annoys him. People always seem to ditch him when they get someone else to talk with, and it makes him feel miserable, because he is also a person, so he thinks he deserves a little more of attention than he gets. Yes, he can be a little shy or not very extrovert like Gabriel and Charlie seem to be, but he can be funny and communicative as well, people just need to give him time and encourage him to loosen up a little.

He looks around examining his surroundings. At his right is a couple of teenagers blabbing about their last party, and at his left two women eye-flirting with another two men some booths down. The music is catchy but not really his taste; he'd rather listen to some old Jazz than these new pop songs. But nevertheless, the bar has the looks of a well-known place in town, considering the amount of people in there.

He loudly sighs, feeling the boredom getting to him. It somehow gets Gabriel's attention and he nudges him with his elbow, "Sup, buddy?"

He responds with a yawn, "I'm just getting tired-" He lies rubbing his eyes. "-I think I'm going home." He actually preferred to be home alone rather than be there just to be ignored.

Gabriel gives him a short smile, "Oh, okay, man. Do you want me to give you a ride there?"

"No, I can walk back home. It's not that far anyway." Somehow he manages an honest smile. He was always like that: no matter how people ignore him, he still feels like he is no better than them and that he needs to be at least polite. "Goodnight, Gabriel."

"Goodnight, buddy."

 

 

[Dean]

 

 

The day before he went home only warning the redhead with a small text message saying **"I'm going home. Tomorrow Sam's visiting so I'll go take some rest before he arrives."** He paid his shots and walked himself out, finding the street empty except for this thin man in a trench coat slowly walking down the road. He adjusted his leather jacket, blowing to the thin hair, seeing some of his breathing floating into nothing and paced back to his block of apartments, being the cold wind and the dark sky his only companion.

 

 

-

 

 

As the sun rises, Dean jumps out of bed with an excitement he didn't have in a long time. He is, after all, seeing his brother again after six months apart. But first things first. He needs to get his house presentable to Sammy's girlfriend, Jessica, who he is going to meet for the first time, today.

While he waits for Sam to arrive, he quickly puts his dirty clothes to laundry, does his bed, cleans some more visible dust, does the dishes, cleans the kitchen, gets the mail, reads the mail rolling his eyes every time he gets a new bill to pay, takes a shower and gets dressed. All being said like that makes him look like a responsible person, but let's emphasize the fact he didn't do the laundry for two weeks already, neither cleaned his house for over a month, his mail was almost like a pile of fan letters to some known celebrity and that he broke two plates while doing the dishes because he couldn't use the dishwasher due to it breaking three days before.

The doorbell makes its warning sound and Dean doesn't even bother to dry his hair and get his shoes put, running to the door and opening it, finding his brother with a very elegant blonde beside him. He hugs them both tightly, first Sam and then the so-called Jessica, and invites them inside.

"God, I missed you!" He says when he gets to look better at his brother, hugging him once more. Sam laughs, hugging his brother back, patting his back with his right hand.

"Yeah, me too, Dean."

"And look at you!" The oldest of the brothers happily says, separating from Sam and looking at Jessica. "You are even more beautiful than Sam said. And he said plenty." He chuckles as Sam rolls his eyes followed with a warm smile.

It was true. Everything Sam had said about Jessica didn't make justice to her. Her curly long blonde hair along with her innocent and sweet eyes and pink lips shapes her like a princess from a monarchy painting. Her smile is bright and shiny like a ray of sunshine and her skin is not very tanned but soft and the light perfectly reflects on her, exalting her perfect cheeks. Dean can see what Sam had seen in her, she has this aura over her of peace, comfort and safety.

"Thank you, Dean. I hope all good, though." She laughs and follows the two brothers to the kitchen, sitting on a stool.

Even her voice is comforting and her laughter is a symphony of soft and warming sound waves. She is very alike Mary, their mother, as far as Dean can see.

Sam is very different from what Dean remembered. He is taller, for starter, much taller. He had the size of a regular teen when he went to Stanford and has now the size of a man able to scare anyone who tries to mess with him. He is stronger too; Dean can see it from the muscles of his arms. But most of all, he seems happier, and that makes Dean the happiest person on Earth.

"How's college going?" His first question comes as he opens his fridge taking some juice out and goes to a cabinet to grab three glasses.

Sam smiles sitting on the stool next to Jessica's, "It's going great! At this pace, I'll be a lawyer in three years. Things couldn't be better."

"Sam's the best of his class." Jessica proudly tells, resting her hand on Sam's knee. "I'm so proud of him."

Dean pours some juice into the glasses and offers one to each one, leaning on the island in front of them with his glass in hand, "That's my boy. How's mom and dad, have you seen them?"

Sam nods, "I passed by their place before coming here. They're good, but they're dying for you to visit them." He softly smiles simply playing with his glass on the table.

"I will. I just need to get things in order first." Dean sadly replies looking at the dozen of bills he has to pay. He wants to see his parents more than anything, but he can't afford a car at the moment and doesn't want his parent's money anymore. He decided to stay behind when they moved back to Lawrence, Mary and John's birthplace, at the time Sam entered college, because he wanted to be independent and do his own life as he pleased. Of course, it all sounded very easy in his mind when he made that choice, but now things were getting somewhat rough. He doesn't regret his choice, no, he loves his life! He has a place to call home, he has a job, friends, all he could ask for! But someday it gets difficult to be away from his family like that knowing he can't just leave his things for a couple of days and head up to Lawrence.

Time flows when you're distracted by something or someone and to Dean that day just flew by. They lunched together at his place and then they decided to show the town to Jessica. Since their first school to their favorite diner; Sam's treehouse to Dean's roof, ending, of course, at the beach.

It was almost sunset time when they got there. The childhood memories were many and both brothers couldn't help but smile and laugh at each other remembering some moments they lived there.

Sam grabs his girlfriend's hand with his and kicks his shoes off, encouraging her to do the same. Dean sits on the sand, his legs up against his chest, watching as the young couple walk mindlessly around the beach. Jessica laughs as Sam hugs her and whispers something into her ear and Dean remembers their parents doing exactly the same, once or twice, when he was around eleven. They both laugh and look at Dean waving at him. Dean smiles, waving back at them. They are happy; his little brother is happy and free. God couldn't have given him a better blessing.


	2. II

[Castiel]

 

    One of the things Castiel hates the most is cold coffee. He doesn’t even like coffee much, but he drinks it regularly as a way to stay awake all day. He drinks it on his breakfast, after his lunch and at the middle of the afternoon, before his shift ends. And that’s why he couldn’t be more irritated at this moment.

    He is alone at the gas n’ sip, it’s Sunday, so most people are at home with their relatives or out at the shopping or at any other more pleasant establishment. No one goes to gas n’ sip shops during weekends, only street wanderers, and travelers to refill their car’s tanks. Castiel finds it either good or bad. Good because he’s not very good with small talk and every time he tries to be nice to someone he ends up saying or doing something embarrassing and awkward. On other hand, he finds it bad because he’s already most of his time alone in a cold dark apartment so he can use seeing some new faces once in a while before he starts suffocating inside four walls.

    But, the coffee. That is the main point here! When he decides to make himself a drink, a trucker comes to deliver the weekly supplies to the store. Castiel is the only one in the store; Meg’s shift only starts at 7pm, so he leaves the big cup of hot coffee on the counter waiting for his return. It didn’t take long, only fifteen minutes, but once he grabs that cup and takes a sip of it, the bitter sickening taste  of cold coffee fills his mouth and attacks his tongue.  But Castiel is not one to spit out, so he simply forces it down his throat, closing his eyes as he does, and cleans his lips to the back of his hand, not drinking the rest of it.

    The doorbell does its annoying ringing sound and Castiel turns around to find a tall strong man walking around the store, examining some drinks on a top shelve. He doesn’t waste much time looking at the stranger, after all, it was simply another customer, so he stands behind the counter waiting for the man to come to pay.

    The said man grabs a bottle of whiskey and silently walks to the counter, putting it there so Castiel can do his work. He looks through the shop window and stares at the other side of the street, ignoring Castiel’s talking. 

    “…Sir, that would be $25.” He repeats for the third time, getting slightly irritated. “Sir?” He looks at where the other is looking seeing the light-browned-haired mechanic leaning over a car, scratching his neck while the older mechanic is possibly talking to him, considering that his lips are moving and his arms pointing from one place to another, with the younger nodding once in a while.

    The stranger’s phone rings, breaking the two from the staring and the tall man coughs while grabbing his wallet to pay the whiskey. As he walks away Castiel still hears some words,

    “…Yes, Gabriel, I’m already in town. Of course I didn’t talk to him, brother, I’m not that stupid!” The door shuts bringing the silence again to the shop.

 

    [Dean]

 

    There had been two weeks since Sam’s visit. It was short, but it was the best thing that happened to Dean since he won a hundred bucks in the lottery. He got to know a lot about Jessica and the promise of another visit in a couple of months couldn’t excite him more.  Sam even said that if until then Dean didn’t get a car, they’d take him with them to visit their parents, so Dean was already counting the days down.

 

-

 

    “Are you done complaining?” Dean asks rubbing his forehead while Bobby is just blabbing about how wrong Dean did. “I was distracted; I didn’t realize the piece wouldn’t perfectly fit. I’ll correct it.” He assures shaking his already wet white t-shirt off his chest. It’s getting hot, since the summer is already showing its first signs, so Dean is always like a tap when working.

    Bobby grunts, adjusting his hat, “You better, kid, you better.”

    The Winchester simply gives a strong nod and, instead of undoing what he did, he simply sits on the floor, leaning on the car, taking a brief pause, before going back to do some hard work. He really needs a break! Charlie has been hanging out with some chick so Dean has been only hanging out with Gabriel, and, even not being that often, Gabriel really knows how to tire a person. In one night he can do more than a regular folk does in one week, not everyone can put up with him.

    He rubs his eyes, looking up at the sky for a moment before glancing over the street watching as some cars pass by.

    “I need to get a car.” He mutters seeing a 65 mustang on the other side of the street taking off. He knows someone who has a car just like that, but those are bad memories for the moment and that someone is no longer in his life, so he simply sighs, pushing himself up, “I really need to get a car.” He repeats resting both his hands on his waist, looking finally at the piece of shitty work he has made.

    The hours slowly pass and the sun is already doing his way down and the sky getting into a reddish tone when Dean slams the capot shut, contently sighing as his mistake was already corrected. Bobby is still in his office attending some phone calls and reading some contract papers of one of the cars that gave entrance to the shop a couple of hours before, so Dean just waves at him through the window, to which Bobby responds with a quick nod.

    He slowly walks along the sidewalk, feeling the soft waft against his clothes and against his skin. He loves how the wind makes him feel so free and lighter. He takes the silence of the street and the loneliness of his walk a cue to succumb to one of his guilty addictions: menthol cigarettes. He doesn’t smoke regularly, just when he feels like it, or when he needs to clear his head, fortunately, this is one of the times he just feels like it, he isn’t facing a stressful situation and that’s a good thing. ‘Too much drama’ is not really his thing, therefore, the calmest his life is, the better. 

 

    [Castiel]

 

    “Here I am, Clarence!” Meg shouts entering the shop. “Miss me?”

    Castiel finishes taking off his vest, not even commenting his name isn’t what she keeps calling him, and combs his hair sloppily.

    “Forget it, angel. That hair of yours will never be in place.” She jokingly smiles, patting his shoulder, “You’re free to go, now.”

    “Thank you, Masters.” He politely replies leaving the counter, she taking his former position then. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He quickly says preparing himself to leave, looking around for his coat.

    Castiel fascinates Meg to the point of taking off her hours of sleep. He is so delicious, in a way of his kindness and almost submission. Or should she say false submission?  She has been digging around, trying to crack that shell of his, and if there’s one thing she already knows about him is that he is too sweet to say ‘no’ to whatever you may ask, but in no way  he lets you give him orders that easily. And then there’s the clumsy way he is sometimes, when he has too many things to handle at the same time, or the lost-puppy-eye look, or even that messy hair she is dying to take a grip on. Saying she has a crush on him would be an understatement.

    “Sure thing.” She says back in a shout, gazing at his butt. “Sure thing…”

    Meg is definitely a big mystery to Castiel. He doesn’t know her very well, neither is he sure if he wants to. She’s always trying to make conversation with him, but it has always that hitch of double-meaning behind it and Castiel can’t dig that. At least not coming from her. Either way, she seems a little creepy sometimes, as well, with all the jokes, the sly looks and smirks or mischievous smiles, it’s like she’s constantly up to something not good. Truth be told, it slightly scares Castiel. That being said, if he can stay in a comfortable distance from her, he wouldn’t complain, at all.

    When he finally arrives home, he finds a certain dog sitting in front of his door, its tongue out and its big ears arched up, staring at the owner of the apartment.

    “Loki, what are you doing here, big boy?” Castiel laughs, rubbing Loki’s torso. In these weeks, he has grown a friendship with that dog. “Is Gabriel mad at you again?” He asks ruffling his hair. “Have you ripped his new favorite shoes, again, haven’t you?”

    Loki licks Castiel’s hand and he takes that as his way to say ‘yes’. With a laugh, he pats his head and after opening the door, calls the dog inside.

    Gabriel’s pet already knows that house well. He has been spending more time there than in his place in the last weeks anyway. Castiel is very fond of animals and when Gabriel discovered that, he made Castiel his personal kennel. He doesn’t complain, though. He always wanted to have a dog, but his family never allowed him and then he moved out and the landlord said there were no animals allowed in the building, apparently, the landlord doesn’t know much about what happens in his building. Besides Loki, Castiel found out that Ash, a computer genius who got expelled from MIT a couple of months before, who lives in the first floor, has a Rottweiler and Missouri, the woman who calls herself a psychic, has two black cats. Maybe that’s the reason the landlord doesn’t know, so many people have pets in his building that no one accuses them to the landlord, instead, they protect each other. And when saying ‘protect each other’ it isn’t just about having animals, but about anything else that might happen. One example of that can be, and Castiel remembers it vividly, when a couple got into a fight and the girl’s boyfriend almost hit her if it wasn’t for Rufus, the ‘Man’ of that place, who punched the guy in the face knocking him down. It was later known that it wouldn’t be the first time he’d hit her and the block’s community kicked him out, saying that if he ever tried to reach her again, they’d break every single bone of his body.

    Loki sits on the couch and then lies completely down. For a trickster, he is quite quiet most of the time. But Castiel knows that Loki’s calmness is just his trick. Once Castiel gets comfortable and off-guard that dog will ruin his house, it always does.

 

    [Gabriel]

 

    He loves his dog, he truly does, but Loki can make anyone crazy in a regular basis. Today, it was Michael, Gabriel’s older brother, the victim of Loki’s madness.  He is back in town after five months traveling around the country and brought his grumpiness back with him.

    Michael is the typical duty man. He is loyal to his father, the most loyal of four brothers: he is serious and puts the family needs in front of his own. The problem is that his arrogance and his ‘I’m better than you’ personality turns him into a cold person to most people. Gabriel only remembers one season when he wasn’t like that, not at first, and that occasion was when he was dating Dean.  But proud can corrupt people and it did, indeed, corrupt Michael until he caused more pain than love to the mechanic Gabriel had grown an empathy with.

    Either way, Gabriel knows he has a problem in hands now: Michael is back and Dean is not fully recovered from him, even if he doesn’t admit it. With that, he does the only thing he can remember of: call Charlie.

    “…No, he didn’t talk to him.” He explains while finishing cooking his and Michael’s dinner.

    “Are you sure?”

    “Yes, I’m sure. He told me. My brother can be a lot of things, but he isn’t a liar.” He looks over his shoulder finding Michael examining the bookshelf. “But you know that sooner or later, they’ll find each other, and that’s not a good thing.” 

    “I know, Gabe, I know.” Gabriel turns off the stove. “Any ideas?”

    “I don’t know. I can’t just tell him to leave town again. He is in his right to stay here. This is his home, Charlie.”

    He hears a huff in the other end of the phone, “And I’m not telling you to do that. I just—“ She suddenly stops and Gabriel is sure she thought of something. “We’ll need to shove someone new into Dean’s life. I’m not saying a romantic interest, not at first, because that monk made it pretty clear he will push away any sexual attempts that anyone tries. Let’s just give him someone fresh, someone he doesn’t know yet. You know how Dean is, if we actually make that happen, he will be all over that person until he knows if he can trust him or her. Remember how it was with us?” She laughs and Gabriel shakes his head.

“Sometimes I felt I was being interrogated! Ergh.”

She laughs, “Exactly! Dean will be too much distracted with his new friend to even think of Michael.”

    “I’m not that sure of that! I mean, a new friend can distract him a bit, but his thing with Michael… It’s not something to be easily forgotten like that. You make it all sound so simple when it’s not.” A sigh is the only answer he has and he gets that as him being too much thoughtful about that. “Okay, okay, shortie, do you have anyone in mind?”

    “Hmm, actually I do, sweet tooth, you can bet I do!”

 

    [Dean]

 

    “I love you too, mom.” He hangs up.  He calls his parents twice a week, every week, to talk with them and shorten that feeling in his heart. He misses them, a lot, and he really wants to see them again. Hopefully, it won’t take much longer to make that come true.

    He has already taken a shower and ordered some Chinese for dinner, so he is simply leaning on the windowsill like he does every day. That is his favorite part of the house, that landscape; nothing beats that panorama he has.

    He’s still holding his cellphone in hand when it starts buzzing. He looks at the screen seeing Charlie’s name blinking.

    “Winchester accounting. How may I help you?” He pulls a seductive voice holding his laughter behind a silly smile.

    “My apologies, I’m must have dialed the wrong number. I was looking for Winchester brothel.” She replies in a low voice before bursting out of laugh.

    Dean coughs, clearing his throat, “In that case, it must be your lucky day because at night our accounting actually turns into a brothel.”

    “Oh, well, dear me, then I want to rent one of your employees for the night. I have money!”

    “For this night, I’m afraid we don’t have any available, due to tiredness.” He tries to stay with his seriously seductive voice. “And even if we had one, he is the most expensive one. I’m not sure you’d be able to afford that…”

    There’s silence for a moment, “I can let him drive!”

    It makes Dean break out of character, “You’re letting me drive your car? Okay, Charlene Bradbury, what are you planning?” He already knows her too well to fall for that. To leave someone else drive her tiny yellow failed attempt of car, it isn’t good, she has always some crazy idea in her head that includes parties, booze or crazy dangerous stuff, and letting him drive it’s just her way to persuade him.

    “First of all, I already told you not to call me that, it’s awful!” She huffs but Dean doesn’t relax a bit. Last time he fell for that he woke up with a “drunk tattoo” of a weird pentagram on his chest he doesn’t even know a thing about. “Second, I’m letting you drive because… My carpal tunnel is a misery and it hurts whenever I drive!”

    Dean squints his eyes, even knowing she can’t see him, and pinches the bridge of his nose, “And where are you planning to take me? No way I’m going to the lake like last time.”

    She dreamily sighs, “That night… wow.” The night she first met Dorothy, the same night Dean and Michael had their first romantic ‘heated’ moment… and also the tattoo. “But don’t worry. I’m just meeting with a friend of mine, the girl I keep talking about, Gilda, and I don’t want Gabriel to be alone when she and I… you know… _wookoodoo_!” She laughs and Dean smiles at her funny expression. “I won’t take no for an answer. I want to be with you, as well. I miss your stupid freckles; I don’t see them over a week. My life is getting boring without their sight.”

    “Yeah, okay, hobbit, but just because you miss my _stupid_ freckles.”

    When Charlie arrives it’s already past 9pm. Dean is lazily waiting on the couch, watching some random medical TV show, Dr. Sexy Md, which he is finding very appealing, when Charlie opens the door. She is Dean’s best friend and lived there for some weeks, before getting her own apartment, so she still has a key and Dean isn’t really worried in asking the key back, he loves to have Charlie around!

    “Hey, Rapunzel, c’mon! Gilda is already waiting for me, leave your gay shows for later!” She calls, while grabbing Dean’s jacket beside the door and standing there for him.

    Dean turns the TV off and combs his hair, putting his combat boots on, running to the door, raising his hand, “The keys, milady.” He slightly bows and she grins giving him the keys.

    Tonight would be the mark of a new chapter in Dean’s life.

 

    [Castiel]

 

    Castiel is finishing dining with Loki sitting beside him on the floor, giving him looks to get some food too, when someone knocks on the door. It’s a surly and quick nod, so Castiel frowns at the violent knocking. Either way, he gets up and slowly walks to the door, opening it to find a familiar tall man who is now examining him up and down. He knew that dark-brown hair, hazel eyes and strong cheeks from somewhere, but he couldn’t really remember from where.

    “My brother said I could find his dog here.” His smooth voice reaches his ears and Castiel nods,

    “You’re Gabriel’s brother…” He stops for a moment; he had heard his name one of the times he was out with Gabe. “Michael, right?

    The other smiles, “I guess I’m in disadvantage here.” Castiel remembers him now, he passed by his store earlier. Michael recognized him as well. “You’re that guy, from earlier, the 25 dollars guy.” He leans on the doorframe and Castiel gives him another nod.

    “Yes, but I’d rather be called Castiel, calling me 25 dollars guy like that can give people misunderstandings.” Michael gives him a mysterious look and Castiel awkwardly coughs, knowing he just said some nonsense crap, and opens the rest of the door, “But, yes, Loki’s here. You’re welcome to come inside, if you want to.”

    He doesn’t need to say another word, as soon as he said that, Michael steps inside, mindlessly looking around at his living room, “You got yourself a nice place.”

    “Thank you.” He politely says, opening the door to the kitchen and letting Loki rush into the living room. Castiel locked him in there in case it was the landlord, you’d never know.

    “You’re new here? I have never seen your face around here before.” He continues gazing at Castiel with a smile.

    “I am.” He simply says and they stay in silence for a few seconds. Michael is a very attractive person, Castiel has to admit that.

    Michael looks at the dog for a moment and then back at Castiel, “Well, I already have the dog so I’m gonna go, now.” He starts walking towards the door before stopping and turning back at the owner of that apartment, “My brother asked me to tell you to be ready at 9:30pm and that, I quote, you are his bitch tonight… Whatever that means.” He shrugs with a weird look. “I’ll see you around, Castiel.”

    He wasn’t expecting that. He thought Gabriel hadn’t enjoyed his company because he never called him to hang out again. Still, he takes a quick shower, does his shave, dresses some jeans and a grey hoodie, letting his hair dry naturally, and looks up at the wall clock seeing it was already 9:27pm.

 

    [Dean]

 

    He is at a bar he never entered before. Charlie said they are there because Gilda works there and that that bar is much better than the bar Dean always chooses to go, so they’d start to go to that one instead.

    If you ask Dean, he disagrees with Charlie. The bar they are in now is nothing compared to the other one. Not when it comes to Dean’s taste. This one is newer and bigger, yes, and is near the beach and all that, but nothing can replace the warmness and old style of his favorite bar. This has white painted walls; the other has dark red ones. This has black metallic stools; the other has leather on them. This smell like lavender; the other smells like cigarettes and peppermint. This has more light than a stadium during a football game, even it being dark-light; the other is illuminated enough for you to see everyone and dark enough for you to be cozy in our own corner without feeling your eyes burning. The only problem sometimes was the music, like a lot of its customers were, in fact, teenagers, sometimes – lets emphasize that word – there was some music he didn’t like that much, but in a regular basis it would be classic rock, mostly. Somehow he is sure he won’t like the music there either.

    “Let’s sit over there!” Charlie points at one emptier part of the bar and Dean nods following her. He could not enjoy that place that much, but he wouldn’t complain about it. Charlie has always followed him around to his old-styled bars so he can do the sacrificing this time. And besides, she is finally moving on from Dorothy, with this Gilda girl, so even one more reason the stay there.

    He passes a hand on the white surface of the booth, feeling the cold sensation against his naturally warmth in his hand and calmly sits down not feeling fit in in the ambience of that particular bar, which is strange because he usually is very suitable in all kinds of places, but not this time. Charlie is impatiently gazing through the crowd of people leaning on the counter or simply chatting while walking to some free booths around the place tapping her fingers on the booth in a fast and regular rhythm and Dean knows, only by that, how important this girl most be if she is already like that. It doesn’t take too long to see Charlie contently sighing and raising her hand in the air, waving at someone with a wide smile on her face. A girl, possibly a couple of years older than the redhead, walks at them, each step smooth and delicate, her short tight white dress not hiding her defined curves. As she seems to get closer to the two people awaiting her, Dean notices she’s smiling back at Charlie. It’s a shy smile, but, nonetheless, magical, showing her white teeth between her light-pink lips. Dean is actually amused of her sight; she is one of the most gorgeous women he has ever seen during his 26-year-old lifetime. His amusement doesn’t pass unnoticed because of his parted lips and dreamy look at her. She chuckles and takes a sit beside Charlie after looking over her shoulder to see if her boss is anywhere near.

    “Hi, Charlie.” She sweetly greets her with a kiss in her cheek and Charlie grins, giving her a kiss back.

    “Hey, Gilda. You look stunning!”

    The brunette’s cheeks flush pink, almost matching her lips and she puts some of her free hair behind her left ear carefully, not to displace the short hooks with flowers that are entwining her hair in the back.

    “Thank you.” She sternly smiles and meets Dean’s eyes for the second time. “And you must be Dean. Charlie told me a lot about you.” She says with the same smile from before. Dean smiles back and Gilda slight shifts on her seat to look directly at her friend. “I’m free in ten minutes, okay, Hermione?”

    Charlie nods and Gilda gives her a quick kiss on her cheek and waves at Dean before getting up and returning to her work. Charlie is simply following every move of hers and Dean looks absently at the bar, with no special interest in anything. Luckily it doesn’t take long for Gabriel to get there, but Dean doesn’t find him walking inside alone, he is, in fact, with another man. Dean knows that face, he is sure he has seen it before. Somewhere.

    As they approach, the man’s features get more detailed but it doesn’t help Dean anyway. Not being able to remember he simply ignores his thought and looks at Charlie, who is now with a mischievous grin on her face. Dean frowns at that, and when he opens his mouth to question her sudden expression, Gabriel’s voice cuts him off,

    “Hello, ladies. You got space for two more?” He asks not waiting to get his response, plunking to a chair, being followed by Castiel. He really didn’t need their consent to sit with them. “I brought my friend here. I hope you don’t mind.” His gaze is looking straight at Dean and his voice seems casual but has a hitch of persuasion in it, like he is asking permission to let his friend in Dean’s life. 

    For a second, Dean’s eyes rest on the taller of the two newcomers, and the first aspect of him he sees are his eyes. The deepest blue eyes he much likely saw to this day. Castiel is sitting in front of him and, he too, is examining Dean, for that same second before he breaks the contact and looks to somewhere else.

    “Hmm, sure.” That’s the only thing Dean says. Little does he know that small, almost nonchalant and cold reply would be the brightest start of the rest of his life; a life where he would meet the sea even not looking at it in the beach, but while looking into someone’s deep wise eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey, hey, just here to ask you a little favor :)
> 
> I need a beta reader for spell-checking (I use spell-checkers but nothing can beat a native English speaker) and for reviewing what I write and, also, to tell me if my ideas are good, bad or what I can improve in the story to make it more pleasing of reading . So, if you'd be so kind - and if you feel like it - pm me or something like that.  
> I already have one for my other story "You Are My Angel" but I don't want to double her work :s 
> 
> That's all. I hope you liked the chapter. I can assure you that things will move on after this chapter.


	3. III

Soon Charlie leaves with Gilda, giving Gabriel eye signals to get lost while saying her goodbyes to both Dean and Castiel, patting them at the same time. Oh, only if she was a cupid! In some way she is, just not very knowingly or at that exact moment. One thing that does not exist is love at first sight; in that all the four, possibly five with Gilda, believe in. When the eyes win the heart, it can’t be that real or truthful. Still, she hopes something can come out of that, not necessarily a love interest, just something. Even the remote possibility of occurrence barely exists, but love comes slow and unconsciously, so may the odds favor the impossible.

Right after that, Gabriel finds his escape route with an old ‘friend’ he had a thing with once or twice and excuses himself for a few moments, getting up adjusting his belt on his jeans and walks away, leaving the two men who are strangers to one another all by themselves.

The bar isn’t silent; however, you couldn’t say the same about that booth at the corner, one subtly looking at the other, and the other blankly looking at the people around them. None of them knew how to start _that_ conversation. Dean is always very open with people and doing small talk is something he turned into something natural due to his work, but somehow, the awkward silence and emptiness between them is too present for him to grow a pair and be nice. Castiel is dealing with the problem of his life once more: his social anxiety to be the first saying a word because frequently he says something inappropriate or socially odd. So he simply does his eye-squint and once in a while gives a quick peek at the light-browned in front of him, hoping not to get caught in doing so, because he’s not sure he’d survive a direct look at him. Apparently, all the men in that town are very handsome and with strong cheek features.

To his infortune, or luck, depending on the perspective, in one of the occasions he moves his eyes to see the freckled man, he finds him staring back. For a slice of a second he almost breaks the eye-contact but the short smile he receives from him keeps him from doing that, like a magnet pulling him closer, fixed on his target, and he keeps his eyes on Dean’s, finding them very interesting and hypnotic. He doesn’t say a word though, he really doesn’t know what to say, only keeping the stare until it was too eerie to continue and looks at his hands instead.

“I need something to drink.” The first words Dean says come hoarse from the minutes in silence. “You want anything?”

“I’m okay, thank you.” He looks up seeing the other leaving his seat, ready to go to the counter. He regrets his decision and coughs, clearing his throat, “…Actually…” Dean turns around at him expectedly, stepping aside to let a couple of girls pass. “…I could have a beer.” His mouth does a curvy thing, almost a smile and he receives a nod as reply.

He watches the stranger disappear between the people and looks around trying to find Gabriel. It’s the second time he ditches him, either leaving him excluded or with someone he doesn’t know. He’s not the complaining type of person, pretty far from that; it only bugs him: if Gabriel has not the intention to be with him, at all, why invite him to hang out? He could be doing something probably more important than standing there like a statue, too scared to even talk with the person who is actually with him, like: enjoying a long bath, or sleeping. It’s not like he doesn’t work tomorrow or anything, he could use some rest. He _needs_ some rest: his coffee forced-obsession can’t completely replace the amount of needed hours of sleep. He sure is used to the sleep deprivation from when he was in college studying, not even half a year before, but that doesn’t mean he wants willingly to keep that pace of five hours of sleep a day, maybe six when he is lucky. How a simple clerk only sleeps five to six hours a day, might be a question to some, although, the answer to it is both simple and complex. Just because he is not currently studying and finishing his degree doesn’t automatically disregard his incessant search for knowledge, so he tries to keep up with all he can get: books, documentaries, more books and a lot of patience. The only free time he has to do so is after work, meaning, at night, resulting in him only going to sleep after one, sometimes two am. To top that, reminding now one of his biggest hobbies, he needs to wake up soon to enjoy some alone time in the beach to do his sketches.

His beer being landed in front of him reminds him he still is in the noisy bar with a man which name remains a mystery. What a strange night it turned into.

“So… What’s your name?”

“Castiel. And yours?”

“Dean.”

Their words come distant and blank, the uncomfortableness still blended between them and keeping them from further conversations. Dean doesn’t say anything about it but is mentally commenting the oddness of Castiel’s name, not knowing if he finds it strange and ridiculous or different and original.

“You come here often?” Castiel asks spinning the wet cold beer bottle on the surface of the booth, some pop rock music playing in a low volume, not bothering him much.

Dean takes a swig from his, loudly sighing as the cold drink downs his hot throat, “Not really.” He does a pause peering up at Castiel through his lashes. “It doesn’t make my personal taste, to be honest.”

“Same here.” He reveals still playing with his bottle. Dean does a one-sided smile and raises his bottle to one more sip, doing a small sucking sound when he pulls his lips from the bottle,

“I never saw you around here… Are you visiting?”

Castiel shakes his head, “No, I moved here a few time ago. Gabriel is my neighbor.” He shrugs, not being able not to look at Dean’s lips on the bottle.

“Cool.” Dean responds making a brief pause after that. “You live alone or got family with you?” It has started: the interrogatory. Once he starts there’s no way to stop him, that’s good though, he is interested enough to do the effort.

“All by myself.”

“Welcome to the club.” Dean says in a way to cheer him up, noticing the bitter way he spat those words out. Castiel forces a smile and sees the other raising his beer to a toast, grabbing his and slightly hitting it on Dean’s.

They do some small talk, sharing some basic information about them like what they do for a living, their favorite films and series, some funnier memories and some other gibberish none of them considers that interesting, but either way shared just to have some subject to talk about. What started with a simple way to spend some time without being into some deep awkward silence, slowly turned into one of the funniest nights Dean and Castiel have had in the last couple of months. Dean, being the joker he is, tells some nonsense jokes and Castiel, being the weirdo he sometimes can be, ends up saying some more uncanny things, making Dean laugh and widen his eyes at him slightly scared or amused.

To break their four rounds of beer, Dean asks a waitress for two shots and keeps laughing as Castiel is thoroughly exemplifying with hand-gestures some pranks he and his cousin, Balthazar, liked to do when they were around fifteen. For a shortish and shy-looking guy, Castiel has quite an imagination.

When they realize it, they have been talking for almost two hours and their mutual friend, Gabriel, is nowhere to be seen. Neither of them seems to care much, simply commenting his absence as unexpected and rushed. Pop music is still playing and Dean subtly rolls his eyes once in a while when some cliché line of the lyrics does his way into his ears and Castiel shakes his head when annoyed with some other music.

Around midnight, Dean looks at his watch and grunts something to himself. Castiel doesn’t have to ask what’s wrong because he too looks at his watch and has the same reaction.

“Crap, it’s getting late.” Dean blurts out and Castiel nods,

“Yeah, I have work tomorrow.” He agrees and Dean shortly smiles, grabbing his jacket.

“Me too.” Both get up and Dean leaves a bill to pay their drinks. Castiel is about to complain, but Dean shushes him off, shaking his hand. “You can pay them next time.”

He nods and follows Dean outside, sinking his hands in the hoodie’s pockets, both looking in different directions of the road, their places in opposite parts of the town.

“Goodnight Dean. It was nice to meet you.” Castiel says looking at Dean who is rubbing his hair after adjusting his leather jacket.

“’Night, Cas. See ya around.”

 

-

 

Dean is finishing changing the oil of a car while listening to “Bohemian Rhapsody” on the radio. Bobby is verifying some car candles and Charlie is sitting on the same bench she always sits when she visits her best friend. It has been three weeks since she introduced Gilda to Dean and now she’s there to ask Dean some relationship advices and also to know about him and Cas.

They haven’t talked again, yet. Not because Dean didn’t want to, more because he never went out at night again after that day; he is having some extra work now that Bobby got him a car from the junkyard, after Dean asked him if he knew of a cheap car for him. Bobby said he didn’t have a car per say, but he could manage him something else. So he is either working or fixing what is going to be his car, not having time to even think of anything else.

“Gabriel says I should tell her how I feel.” She says, continuing her 5-minute monolog. “I like her, I do, but I’m not sure if she likes me back. I mean, we have a lot of fun together, and she’s gorgeous and sweet… and amazing, but I don’t know. Maybe it’s pushing too much, I don’t wanna ruin whatever we have between us.” She keeps talking while Dean grumbles when dirtying his shirt with some oil. That’s what happens when you decide not to change your clothes for work. “Help me here, squirrel.”

“You should tell her.” That’s all Dean says before looking at her and seeing her uncertain. “Look, Charlie, you’re beautiful and funny, I’m sure she likes you back. How many times have you two hung out already? You already are a couple, basically.” He is cut off by Bobby’s grunts when hitting his head on a capot. “Grow a pair, Bradbury!”

She nods, a smile appearing on her face, and she gets up to give him a quick kiss on his cheek.  Dean shakes his head with a smile and finishes his work on that car, knowing he can make a pause for a couple of minutes and decides to sit outside having Charlie to make him some company.

He looks to the other side of the street, at the Gas n’ Sip. He knows Cas works there: he had told him that day at the bar. He thought of going there, sometimes, but he never actually made that move. He had lots of fun, but he barely knows the man, and it’s not like they have been keeping in touch, they are still strangers and he is not sure of what to do.

“What did you think of him?” Charlie asks already knowing of what, or who, Dean is thinking about.

He shrugs, looking at her, “He’s a cool guy.”

“Have you guys been talking?” She keeps pushing, a sudden tone of interest almost giving her in.

“Not really. Why?”

Dean isn’t stupid. He saw the looks she gave Gabriel that night, almost screaming ‘get out’ at him. He simply ignored it because Castiel surely didn’t get that. However, he knows what Charlie is doing, he always knows. He also asked Gabriel the day after, or better, inquired that information, and, after some minutes, Gabriel ended up telling him the truth. And when referring to the truth, it also includes Michael’s return. It got him off-guard. He knew sooner or later Michael would be back, but after so many months away a person slowly forgets the imminent truth. Gabriel, being Gabriel, joked around, trying to loose the conversation a little, afraid that Dean could be mad or something, but Dean just sighed and said it was okay.

It wasn’t. Michael was Dean’s first male partner, first boyfriend, and they were okay for eight months. Then, slowly and almost inexplicably, the arguments started, the fights, the angry looks and bitter words grew and took over their relationship, until the day it got to the point Dean couldn’t handle it anymore and punched him squared in the face. It didn’t end up well. Michael was a SEAL and that means stronger than Dean, ending up kicking his ass pretty bad. It wasn’t nice to watch, and Gabriel ended up in the middle of it, trying to help Dean out during that specific fight, he too taking with Michael’s strength and arrogance. Somehow, he was able to put some sense into his brother’s mind and two days after, Michael packed his belongings and left town, saying he needed to clear his head, so he’d travel and not bother Dean ever again. It was the best decision he could have made in his entire existence. It gave them both freedom and a new start, a new chance to resolve their lives and move on. Dean isn’t sure he’d be able to keep his sanity if he had to see Michael every day after that night; him being gone was the fastest and easiest way to end that part of his life, him being back means the memories are back and that’s not a good thing.

“…You there?” Charlie nudges him and he blankly looks at her before focusing his vision again. He wandered off for a bit, not listening to what she said before.

“Sorry, got a little distracted.” He excuses himself and stares again at the shop window at the other side of the street. The redhead gives him a sympathetic look and pats his knee,

“You should go there.” She advises and Dean sighs annoyed.

“You need to stop.” He bits out, giving her a cold glare. He is done saying he doesn’t want anyone and she keeps forcing him to do something he doesn’t want to. Can’t she understand he’s better alone?

She notices he misunderstood her intentions and quickly shakes her head, “Not like that! I just… You could use some new friends… He too! He’s new here and he doesn’t know many people, that’s all.” She tries to explain, but Dean simply huffs ready to get up. “Fine, don’t go there. I don’t even care anymore, freckles.”

Charlie says that and jumps up, slightly mad at Dean. Yes, she’d love to see Dean moving on, but she’s not going to try anymore. She was being honest when saying that Dean could use some new friends, and she knows that Castiel would be a great one. Either way, she got offended with Dean. She’s only trying to help and he is being the stubborn and pigheaded he can be only because she’s telling him to do what he, deeply, already knows he wants to.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, taking his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and grabs a cigarette, resting it between his lips while searching for his lighter. “I’m just stressed, lately.”

The redhead’s only response is a shy and knowing nod. If there is any reason for Dean to be stressed it would be Michael. Always Michael. Perpetually Michael. The pack of cigarettes is raised at her, inviting her to take one, but she declines the offer, not being a fan of smoking and sits back down with Dean. They both keep in silence: one is smoking; the other is simply gazing at the street and at the buildings’ walls in warmer tones of coloring since the sun is already making its way down to welcome the moon. On the other side of the street, a man in a trench coat appears from the gas n’ sip store, waving at someone inside by the window and adjusts his clothes before starting his walk home.

Dean blows the smoke off his lungs, playing with his cigarette in his fingers, “I should talk to him.”

 

 

[Castiel]

 

_One day after_

The warm sun of July lightens up Castiel’s bedroom, its morning soft affection slowly bringing the dark-haired man to his senses and open his eyes, being welcomed with the golden light of the morning star illuminating his usually dark and empty, still to decorate, room.

Normally, he wakes up before the sun rises. He likes to already be at the beach when it occurs, so he can be there to feel and memorize it, and then, picture it into a blank sheet of paper, not missing any of its details, senses, smell and vibrations. This summer day he decided not to. He has the day off and wants to enjoy it. He is still going to the beach, even more now that it’s the season of tanned people and cold drinks while lying on the sand watching people running to the water and listening to the happy children yelling and running around the beach, but he chooses to have some more minutes of sleep before going to the crazy world awaiting him.

As he gets up and opens the sliding door of his balcony, he is not surprised when the normal early morning noise of his block reaches his ears, being already used to it: Ash has a party twice a week that only ends when it is too late in the daylight to continue; Loki does not understand the rule of ‘no barking when people are sleeping’; and most people who live there work early, and like the building is an old construction, the sound of the water running the pipes is something Castiel has learnt to ignore by now.  His walk to the kitchen could be silent if it wasn’t for the muffled music coming from the floor beneath his, and with a yawn turns on his coffeemaker, preparing already his only-a-drink-please breakfast. He heads out to the large hall at the ground zero, in his pajama and barefoot, to pick up his mail he got the day before. He encounters Missouri on his way down and they do the stairs, side by side, in silence. Once in a while, in an amount more than necessary, he notices her giving him some weird glances, but ignores them, not wanting too much of a talk with her; last time she started blabbing about seeing in him a big hole.

Castiel could either take it literally or not, he doesn’t even care, and doesn’t really believe in Missouri being a true psychic. Not that he doesn’t believe in spiritual dimensions, he is open-minded, but he’s not a fanatic. However, if you give him solid proofs he will bow his head and accept that reality.

Is he already opening his mailbox when she stops and freezes behind him, staring at no specific part of him. When he turns around, and almost bumps into her, he slightly jumps, his heart skipping a heartbeat.

“Missouri?” He worriedly asks when she keeps still, her eyes fixed on him, but oddly vague. “Are you okay?”

She blinks her eyes, coming down from her daze, “Hazel.” That’s everything she says before totally focusing her vision, “I’m sorry, Castiel, I just saw something about you.”

Pettily, he rolls his eyes; he doesn’t want to hear about his big hole, now possibly big hazel hole, again. She gets the eye-roll and crosses her arms with a dead serious look on her face. If there is someone you need to completely respect, that person is Missouri: she’s not very patient and tolerant and doesn’t enjoy people disrespecting her, just like the new neighbor did, by rolling his eyes at her, which is highly impolite.

“I must go back, my coffee must be already made and awaiting me.” Castiel excuses himself, giving one step left to step away from the black scary woman, and starts pacing back to the stairs.

“I hope pretty-eyes whacks you with a spoon, boy, you really need some more education!” She reprimands grabbing the newspaper at the entrance of the block. Gladly, Ash comes from the stairs, only on his boxers, scratching the crack of his rear, and that takes Missouri’s responsiveness from Castiel to Ash, “And you, brat boy, don’t you have respect for the others who live here?” She shouts, hitting him hard on the head with her newspaper rolled in her hand.

 

-

 

When Castiel gets to the beach, it already is half full with towels and people enjoying the summer, the noisy crowd harking him back to, for a moment, the place he lived before. Then he remembered how real noisy is, and that beach is nothing compared with an avenue at a metropolis.

He takes off his beach-slippers, preferring to feel the sand between his toes, and mindlessly wanders along the beach, looking for a calmer place to sit and practice his drawing. Today, he is thinking of drawing anonymous people who get his attention, like kids playing around, some couple together, or simply the sea.

Soon, he finds a good place to be protected of the hot burning sun under a ravine and extends his towel there, sits with his legs crossed and takes his sketchbook out of his bag, looking around for what he wants to be his model that day. There are two kids doing a sand castle, some teenagers taking a nap on the towels, a man selling water and snacks, someone sitting on the rocks, further at the frontier between land and sea. Castiel finds it the most interesting one, possibly because that man is alone and there is something about him that captivates his attention. He plays with the pencil in his hand while looking at the stranger, examining the lines of his large back and the way he hugs his legs up to his chest. A wave crushes to the rock, but he doesn’t move, the rock being too tall for him to get wet. Castiel slides the pencil through the sheet drawing the first line. A seagull cries in the sky, another one answering to its scream. The man tilts his head back looking up at the blue clean sky and Castiel tries to catch as many details he can, one line being drawn after the other, at a speed considerably fast but, nonetheless, precise. The laugh of the two children still doing the castle reaches his ears, but he is too focused to move the eyes either from his sketchbook or the man on the rock. Another wave comes. Another line appears. The other slight shifts at the way he’s sitting, resting his head on his arms that were crossed around his legs and that makes Castiel blow an inaudible grunt, being now harder to keep up with his draw. He squints his eyes, like it could focus his vision, and keeps the pencil suspended on air, finding the best way to continue his work, waiting for some other change. Then, he takes a moment to look further at other details, the way his light-brown hair seems to be combed, the folded-up sleeves of his plaid shirt, the old jeans and combat boots. That isn’t exactly the kind of style to use on a beach and Castiel chuckles at the contrast it makes: the rebellion present in that stranger and the peace flowing in the beach. If you think about it, one cannot exist without the other, you can’t know one if you don’t know the other, so both are essential to the world. Just like there: somehow that beach seems to be a place the man likes to be, because besides the rough vibe Castiel caught, he also felt comfort and shelter while looking at the man, a sensation of the stranger being home.

He looks back at his sheet of paper and sees that he is missing what really caught his attention: the feeling. Looking at it now, it seems shallow and drafty, rather lifeless and pointless. He hates it, when he can’t pass the emotions to the paper, when the essence slips through his fingers and he can’t grab it back, making him frustrated, because to him life is all about senses and memories. If you can’t have them and acknowledge them, living them, and loving them, either them being good or bad, then your life was wasted and you were too distracted with meaningless desires and options to actually live in the real world. He didn’t think like that before, he has grown this perspective as he restarted his life and has now to find his own way in a new reality.

Another seagull pleading in the skies makes him look up to watch it fly in circles, and the children laughter grabs his attention for a couple of seconds before looking back at the rocks. The man’s still there, however, he is already up and adjusting his jeans, preparing himself to leave. Not having his model anymore, Castiel closes his sketchbook and packs his bag, he too wanting to leave. He gets up, rolls his towel and turns around, finding the man jumping one rock to another, fighting his way back to solid land, and Castiel sees his face for the first time, recognizing those facial lines in a heartbeat: the man is Dean. The strong-facially-featured mechanic he is thinking about in the last weeks since they met.

The will to go there and say “Hi” is huge and daring; Dean was, in the last months, the only person who showed real interest in getting to know him, and he also had a great time with him; he hadn’t laughed so much in a long time. Though, afraid Dean wasn’t in the mood to talk with him, maybe because Castiel wasn’t as interesting to Dean as Dean was to him, considering only by the fact they never talked again, Castiel simply stays there watching the mechanic walk back to the sidewalk of the cemented street.

With a sigh, he drags himself along the burning sand thinking about what he is having for lunch; maybe a salad, something **_light_** and refreshing for this hot day. Abruptly, and distractedly, he looks onwards at the old wooden bridge, connecting the beach to the street, and finds Dean leaning on the brick wall, looking directly at him. He smiles at him with a nod and Dean leaves the wall waiting for the dark-haired man to join him.

“Hiya.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“Heading home?” Dean asks, both starting to walk in no particular direction, none of them having a specific destination at the moment.

Castiel nods, “Yes. I mean, I don’t really have any other place to go.” He shrugs, by this time used to his meek and tedious life.

“Yeah, me too.” The other shares, kicking the ground effortlessly, searching in his mind for some topic to talk about. He had promised Charlie he would talk to him, but, for some unknown reason, he finds it tough to remember of something humorous or curious to say. “I’m hungry.” He says the first thing that comes to his mind gazing at the marginally shorter man next to him. Castiel nods, feeling the same way, and Dean sees that as an opportunity to do what he is intending to do, “I could go for a burger, wanna join me?”

“I…” He stops, wanting to say yes, but, nevertheless, reluctant to accept the invitation. He wants to know more about Dean, that’s certain, but then again he isn’t sure if Dean finds him interesting or just doesn’t want to be rude. Tired of overthinking things he just smiles, silencing his mind. “Sounds good.”

 

-

 

They are both sitting on a booth next to a window turned at the beach. Dean knows that place since he is four, since it is the saloon at the exit of the beach where he used to go with his family, and like he also knows the owners, he decided to visit them.

Their requests are already taken by Jo, the owner’s daughter, who has a big friendship and an almost history with Dean, back when they were in high school, and Dean and Cas are now with beer in hand listening to some Blue Oyster Cult rocking through the jukebox’s speakers .

“How’s work?”

“Normal. Working at a gas n’ sip isn’t exactly the most exciting position in the world.” Castiel nonchalantly says, still inspecting the place.

“I bet.” Dean chuckles gazing up at him, “You can pass through the garage, if you’re in a dead hour or something.”

“Thank you. Maybe one of these days I will. That is, as long as you don’t put me working on a car. That would be unpleasant.”

“Don’t worry. Charlie goes there often and the maximum she does is blab until she runs out of air.” 

“So you’re saying that I’d only be good enough to blab like a chick?” Castiel enquires squinting his eyes.

The other laughs, “The alternative is dismembering parts of cars and working with oils…”

“Blabbing is good enough for me.”

Jo returns with Cas’s salad and Dean’s double-cheeseburger, already asking if he wants the usual for dessert, to which Dean replies with a grin, and leaves them again.

With a lick of his lips, Dean grabs his food and takes a big bite out of it, forgetting for a moment what good manners are, “So… Are you dating someone?” He asks still chewing his food.

“Not at the moment.”

He swallows, grabbing his beer, “Me neither.”

“Yeah, I heard about… Michael…” He mutters, not sure if Dean is comfortable to talk about that with him.

“I figured… With Charlie nothing really stays unshared.” He shrugs and stops eating to look, in an observing way, at Cas. “I hope you don’t have problems with the fact I dated a man.”

“I’m not exactly the right person to have problems with that.” A faint blush flushes in his face, a shamefaced person appearing in a manner of seconds.

Dean puckers his face, “Meaning?” Castiel only shrugs at the question, finding his beer more appealing than the answer he has to give. In a flick of the switch, a possibility blooms in Dean’s mind, and he crosses his arms on the table staring at Cas with a bold grin in his lips, “Are you saying… you’re queer?”

“There are friendlier ways to say that…” He huffs. It is now obvious that the one uncomfortable is Castiel.

Dean shrugs, gripping his burger, “Gay, queer, homo, fag… What’s the difference, right?” He throws the words at the air, showing that he already gave up on fighting those terms, “A word can’t define you, not really, so why be so selective about them?”

“Because words can hurt and break you.” He can’t help but remember his last conversation with his family, the night before he was kicked out from home and cut off of everything he once had.

Dean nods, getting the message and gives Castiel an apologetic smile, “Either way, I didn’t mean it in a spiteful and callous way.”

“I know.” He manages to draw a small smile in his lips, eating his salad.

Soon after that, each one of them ate a slice of pie and had some small talk, mostly gibberish about work and dreams they left behind to follow others, or to create new ones based on what they have in hands at the present, and around 3pm, they leave the saloon, Dean already knowing where he needs to go next: to the shop giving the last repairs to his so-to-be car.

“Remember that invitation I did a couple of hours before?” Castiel nods, adjusting his pack on his shoulder. “You’re welcome to come now… I have this job to finish…”

For as much as he’d love to say yes, he already had made plans with Charlie the night before, going to do a series marathon at her place, alongside with Gilda, “Maybe some other day… I already have things to do, today.” He tries to explain and Dean just shushes him off.

“No problem. Tell you this—“ He smiles raising his hand asking for Cas’s cellphone. “I’ll give you my number and one of these days we’ll mark something to do. How does that sound to you?” He types it down giving a short peek at the dark-haired man who is smiling, the sunlight turning his eyes into a robust tone of blue.

“I accept that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yay for continue  
> Nay for enough is enough


End file.
